


Yet what I can I give Him: give my heart

by twistedrunes



Series: George [20]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Assault, Beating, Drug Abuse, F/M, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hospitalization, Implied/Referenced Sex, Language, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Violence, Torture, Trauma, Unwanted Sexual Advances, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-20 02:07:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17013537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedrunes/pseuds/twistedrunes
Summary: Your eyes flit to the mirror next to the door, drawn to the raised pink scar which shadowed your cheekbone. Doctor Prendergast had told you that the top reconstructive surgeons had done your operation and you were sure they had done their best. But, the scar was still there, a daily reminder of the worst day of your life.Turning away you hunt through the assorted bottles and other refuse on the kitchen table looking for a cigarette. Finding one, you light it and slump into a chair. You smoke as the tea goes cold. Stubbing out the cigarette, you run a line of cocaine on the table and start your day.





	Yet what I can I give Him: give my heart

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from the final line of the poem “In the bleak midwinter” by Christina Rossetti

You’re in a hospital, you can tell, despite being unable to see. The harsh antiseptic smell, hushed voices, the cold of the steel gurney beneath you and the soft footsteps of rubber-soled shoes confirm it.

_RUN!_

“No, no. Stay still now.” Tommy’s voice coos, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. Their resistance enough to prevent your escape.  You take a deep breath, his familiar smoky scent filling your nose. You slump back on the gurney.  

“Sir, you have to wait outside.” A harsh voice demands.

“No.” You shriek, grabbing Tommy’s wrist desperately with one hand while the other hits out at the hands pawing at you, trying to hold you in place.

“Stop!” Tommy’s voice commands, his free hand touching your shoulder reassuringly. “Get your hands off her now.” The hands release you.

“She needs to be sedated, and you need to go outside.” Another voice attempts to seize control back from Tommy.

“I’m not leaving. You’re not sedating her, and that’s fucking final.” Tommy growls.

“I said no-one was to touch this patient.” Doctor Prendergast roars, you hear his heavy footsteps quickly crossing to you, his voice hard in a way you’ve never heard. “All of you get out now.” He orders.

You hear a door close as another hand rests on your arm soothingly. “It’s okay now. It’s only me and Tommy. No-one else will touch you.” Doctor Prendergast assures you. 

“Good.” You mumble around swollen lips. Adrenaline gone, and medication waning, things are starting to hurt. A lot. But you welcome it, focusing on the pain. Tumbling gladly into the maelstrom of burning fire and cold lightning created by broken bones and battered tissues. Allowing the tempest to consume you. Obliterating reality.

\----------------

“Anna? It’s Doctor Prendergast.” His hand touches your shoulder lightly.

“Mm,” You acknowledge.

“I’m sorry, but you need to stay here for a few days.” He continues.

“No,” you whine rolling away from the Doctor’s voice.

“I know you don’t want to.” The Doctor’s hand rubs your arm. You’re aware of Tommy taking your other hand. “But your cheekbone is broken,” the Doctor continues, “and we need to put it back in place. There’s pressure on your eye, I’m afraid you might lose your sight in that eye if we don’t do it. Once it’s done, you will have to stay a few days for the swelling to go down and to make sure you don’t have any complications.” He explains.

“Please, no,” You whimper, “I can’t stay here.” You pull your arms free and begin to sit up. Tensing and hissing with the effort and struggling to get your legs out from under the covers. Turning toward Tommy, you beg “Please take me home, Tommy. Don’t make me stay here.”

“We’ll look after you. We’ll make sure nothing happens to you.” Tommy says quietly. He stands, you can feel his warmth as he takes hold of your shoulders and leans in towards you. Your forehead rests against his chest. “But I need you to stay here and get looked after properly."

"No," you sob, your fingers clutching at his waistcoat.

Tommy's hands tighten on your shoulders as he pulls you closer. He drops his head down next to yours. "Please.” He breathes in your ear.

You nod resignedly, you can feel your tears burning hot trails over your cheeks and leaving salty residue on your lips. Tommy guides you back onto your pillow, fixing the blankets around you. Then he very carefully brushes the tears from your cheeks with his handkerchief.

“Good girl.” The doctor says kindly. “I’m going to give you a shot.” Your body tenses and both men place soothing touches on your hands. “It’ll just help you relax and sleep. You need to sleep.” The doctor continues, his hand brushes over your hair. You nod once. “Just a little sting.” The doctor says as the needle penetrates into your flesh.

The doctor leaves, but Tommy’s hand stays resting on yours. You feel yourself sinking, a black abyss opening up around you and you let go, allowing yourself to fall. Welcoming the nothingness.

\----------------

A small gasp from the door distracts you from the sound of Tommy’s voice. He’s reading to you. You can’t follow the words, finding the effort of concentrating too great. He could be reading the form guide for all you knew, but the rhythm and melody of his voice is reassuring. You open the eye not held closed in the swathe of bandages. Bandages which covered the new wounds made in surgery. You turn your head so you can see the source of the noise. Selene is standing just outside the doorway, slightly in front of Alfie, hand raised to her mouth.

“That bad?” You ask quietly. Tommy stops reading and looks up.

“Oh no, darling. I didn’t mean.” Selene hurries over to your bedside. You shake your head holding up your hand indicating she should stop. Selene stops, hands clasped in front of her. Alfie stands behind her and places his hand on the small of her back reassuringly.

“Alfie, Selene.” Tommy greets them standing from his chair.

“Tommy,” Alfie replies, his eyes flicking to Tommy before returning to you.

Tommy’s fingers graze over the back of your hand lightly “I’m just going to step outside.” He tells you.

You nod. To the best of your knowledge, Tommy had kept his promise to look after you and hadn't left your side. Other Shelby’s came and went, sometimes Tommy would step out into the hall, having hushed conversations but always where you could see him. He’d wait in the hall while Doctor Prendergast was examining you. But would loiter in the room, back turned for your privacy, whenever anyone else came to do anything. Often asking questions about what was happening and if it was necessary. He even washed, using a small basin, and changed in your room, pulling the curtain between you, but talking the whole time, so you knew he hadn’t left.  

“Sit.” Tommy instructs Alfie and Selene, indicating they should move to the side of the bed he had just vacated. The side where you could see them easily.

“How are you?” Selene asks her fingers brushing yours.

Tommy answers for you from the doorway. “She’s doing well. If everything goes how the doctor says, she should be right to go home in a few days.” You simply nod in agreement.

Alfie remains standing giving the chair to Selene. He rubs his hand through his beard, scratching around the corners of his mouth. Keen eyes examining you. The visible parts of your face are still a mixture of yellow and green hues, the superficial damage from the assault fading. But he knows the look in your eye, seen it before too many times. The tell-tale thousand-yard stare looking through him. The absence that comes with overwhelming loss. When the constant uncertainty and danger gets too much, even when the threat is long gone. 

Again he wonders at the soundness of doing what he was here to do. Selene insisted that to wait any longer would only make it worse. At first, he had been so confident in your ability to overcome. Citing all the other trauma’s you had endured and survived. Hell seemingly thrived. But now he sees the foolish optimism in that thinking. Everyone had a breaking point, and it seemed you had reached yours.

Alfie pulls a small box from his pocket, turning it in his fingers. Silent. Selene lays her hand on his forearm. Alfie glances at her “Yeah. Right.”

“Goliath didn’t have the best start in life, bit like yourself.” He begins. Selene nods mutely. “Anyway his dad went during the war and well his ma,” he pauses, and you nod. Goliath had told you his mother had been driven mad with grief when his father passed. “So he only had me. Poor fucker. Still, don’t know how he turned out to be such a sweet boy.” Alfie shakes his head sadly before continuing “Only thing he had from his folks was his ma’s engagement ring. A plain thing really, just a band.”

You watch him blankly trying to focus, to hear and understand the words coming out of his mouth.

Alfie frowns slightly before opening the box towards himself. “So he came to me a few weeks ago, and he tells me he wants to get the ring his mother left ‘im altered, right. But he wants it done all Kosher. Nothing illegal.” He turns the box towards you and places it carefully in your hand.

Your hand is shaking wildly as you look down. It’s a simple single pearl ring.

“The ring’s platinum,” Alfie explains. “Goliath wanted the pearl added. Told him he could‘ve brought ya whole fucking strings of pearls and fucking earrings to match, bloody ruby’s, diamond’s or fucking sapphires.” Selene gently touches Alfie’s arm bringing him out of his ramblings, “But, he said it had to be just the one pearl.” Alfie shakes his head a little “Anyway got it done by a friend, right? He’s a fucking magician he is. It’s all legal and above board from reputable dealers.” Alfie’s hands drop to his sides as he watches you intently.

The box falls into your lap your hand is shaking so much. You can barely see as your eyes fill with tears. “I can’t” you whisper “It’s your family heirloom.”

Alfie picks the box back up, putting it in your hand and closing your fingers around it “No. It was his, and he wanted you to have it.” He says firmly.

Selene leans forward in the chair and places her hand over Alfie’s. “Did he tell ya the story about pearls?” She asks.

You nod, remembering. The tears flowing freely now. Selene stands, leaning over and gently embracing you. “He really did love you. Don’t ever doubt that.” She says.

\----------------

Clutching your shopping, you walk quickly along the road. You’d been home for a few weeks now. It had been hard to come back. Tommy had offered you to come and stay at Arrow House for a while. But you needed to try and get back to normal. Selene had told you to take some time off. But you had returned to work in three days. The four walls of the apartment seemingly closing in on you. Suffocating you in memories of Goliath. He was embedded in every piece of furniture, every floorboard, every tile. George kept filling your head too. The busyness of work providing a welcome haven.

Something is wrong. You feel a familiar shiver down your spine. You look around you trying to work out what or who is out of place. Your heart races and your breath is coming in gasps. Your free hand pushes against your chest. You hurry past the alley next to the brothel, trying not to look at the spot where Goliath died. Decaying flowers still marking the spot.

A loud bang behind you stops you short. Packages dropping from your hands. You collapse against the wall sliding down into a pile of rubbish, arms covering your head. 

_Goliath is dead._

_You’re in Sabini’s cellar. Head in the trough, water blocking you from the sensations of the world. You feel only cold and panic. Your lungs scream and blood pounds in your ears._

“Miss Hunter?” one of the new girls crouches down next to you, tugging at your arm “Are you okay?” You neither see nor hear her. Another of the girls approaches her. “Get Will.” The first girl says anxiously.

_Goliath is dead._

_Water is pressing in on you from all sides, squeezing the life from you. You reach the precipice, teetering on the edge. Only to be pulled back, gasping and shivering. Air filling you with life and hope. Each second that passes brings you closer to the end of the torture. You take a breath and then another. Before being plunged back into the abyss again._

_Goliath is dead._

“Anna?” Will says touching your hand lightly.

You look through him shivering and gasping. “He’s dead.” You say flatly.

“I know love. I’m sorry. Let’s get inside, 'ey.” He says easily picking you up.

“Dirty whore. The place should be burnt to the ground.” A woman, drawn in by the cluster of worried workers, spits at you.

“Fuck off ya slag.” One of your girls screams at her, as others stand between you and the public, protecting you from prying eyes.

Will strides past them all, not paying attention to anyone but you. Once inside he carries you up to your room. Calling for one of the girls to bring a whiskey over his shoulder. Will pulls a blanket from your bed wrapping it around you, before placing you gently on the sofa. When the drink arrives, he holds his hand over yours guiding it to your lips.

You look through him, barely aware he’s there. “He’s dead.” You repeat in the same flat monotone.

Will sits next to you on the sofa, pulling you against him. He looks over at the girl who brought the drink “Call the doctor.” He instructs her.

Will’s hand smooths your hair. Still confused and scared you break down and cry.

\-----------------

The expansion of the prostitution business had been your idea. The death of Sabini and subsequent dismantling of his empire had left Alfie, and the Shelby’s as the only two gangs in England and an alliance had been formed. Both parties had illegal and legitimate interests. Nearly all providing significant scope for other illegal activities, such as booze and gambling. You had suggested they add prostitution.

Your plan was twofold, firstly establishing a business to run prostitutes across the partnership, and secondly ensuring no-one else had any piece of that business. Essentially, a prostitution monopoly. 

Both Tommy and Alfie had been reluctant at first to ‘sell flesh’, but you had won them over. Pointing out that none of Selene’s prostitutes worked against their will and that the provision of high-quality girls and boys, catering for a range of tastes, along with the removal of any competition would result in excellent profits. You were fairly sure it was the money that won them both over.

On top of the expansion, you were finishing up the paperwork for Selene’s return to work. So you had been busy, really busy. It was a blessing, exactly what you needed. Mind always occupied you had little time to think about anything else. Cocaine helped you stay awake and your brain racing. Liquor and morphine numbing you sufficiently to sleep a few hours each night.

You were currently sitting in Selene’s office, in the middle of the floor working on the accounts, piles of carefully sorted paper around you. 

“Anna?” Ruby says from the doorway.

“Mm?” You reply not really looking up.

“There’s a woman here to see you, a Mrs Thorne,” She says her eyes sweeping over the mess surrounding you.

“I’m not seeing new girls until tomorrow.” You interrupt.

“I don’t think she’s here for that, or if she is, she’s new to the game,” Ruby observes.

“What did she say she wanted?” You ask, finally looking up at her.

“Shelby business.” Ruby shrugs indicating the woman hadn’t felt the need to provide any more information than that.

“Fuck” You sigh. “Show her to the reception, get her a drink, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Dragging yourself up off the floor you slip your shoes back on and put on your holster on and jacket over the top. You sit at your desk and pull the mirror, razor and silver straw from your drawer and quickly do a line. The whole time trying to remember who the hell Mrs Thorne was. Coming up empty you decide the only thing to do is go out and meet the woman.

Stepping into reception, you recognise who it is immediately, Ada. You take a deep breath and stop briefly at the bar, pouring yourself a large whiskey and checking she had a drink before you go to her table.

“Ada.” You say curtly, coming up behind her.

“Anna.” Ada turns giving a small smile and a nod. You notice she has a small, unmarked envelope in front of her on the table.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise you were married, I didn’t recognise the name.”

“No. I guess we never really got the chance to get to know each other better did we?” She says reflectively.

“No.” You say stiffly “What can I help you with?”

“Tommy’s at Mr Solomons’, he thinks I’m shopping.” You nod waiting for her to get to the point “I wanted to apologise for the way I treated you at Tommy’s.” She says quickly. You can’t stop your eyebrows from rising in surprise. Ada nods contritely at your reaction “It was aimed at Tommy. I forgot you were a person too.”

Still, you say nothing, merely shrugging.

“He’s such a slut you know? And he treats women like shit. He doesn’t see the trail of human rubble he leaves behind him.“ She stops herself before her rant gets away from her. "Anyway, what I’m saying is, the things I said were comments on his character, not yours and I’m sorry if anything I said hurt you.”

You soften slightly, surprised. “Well, Tommy and I have never slept together so,” you begin but don’t really know how to finish.

Ada nods. “I know. I think that was good for him. I think he actually tried to be a friend. He seemed,” she pauses looking for the right word “better.” She shrugs knowing it wasn’t the right one “Well at least he did, until whatever he did for you to leave anyway.” Ada shakes her head.

Not in the mood to discuss Tommy or leaving Alea Manor any further you press on “I’m sorry Ada but I’m quite busy at the moment.” You nod discretely at the envelope.

“Yes, well.” She fingers the package nervously as if trying to decide what to do with it. “These are for you.” She says abruptly, pushing the package towards you.

You take it and pause. Ada nods that it is safe to open in the public view. You shake the contents out onto the table. Six or seven pieces of card fall out. You pick one up and turn it over. Your heart stops. It’s a photo of you and Goliath, with the Shelby’s after his last fight. Obviously, the photographer had taken a candid shot of you all. You were sitting on Goliath’s lap. The group were all smiling and laughing. You drop the photo on the table. “Why?” is all you manage to say trying to keep your emotions in check. Your thumb rubs over the pearl on your ring, your chest getting tighter.

“I lost my husband. Pestilence, after the war.” Ada says. You nod. “I know what it’s like to lose someone you love.” Ada continues pulling a photo from her purse turning it to show you. “Freddie.” She says simply “It helps to have a photo. For the days when you think that you’ll forget what they looked like. When you wonder if it was real or just your imagination.” She rubs her thumb tenderly along the edge of the photo. “Tommy said you didn’t have any photos.”

“No, I don’t.” Surprised that Tommy had even noticed, you pick up another of the photo’s “Where? How did you even get these?”

“I figured that a fighter would have had their photo in the paper so I found out which papers covered his last fight and went to their offices.”

“I never saw these.” You say confused.

“They weren’t published, apparently, Mr Solomons’ suggested there was no one of interest in them.” Ada cocks her eyebrow. She picks up another photo looking at it briefly before turning it towards you. “He obviously loved you.” She says showing you the photo. The two of you were looking at each other, oblivious in that moment to anything around you, completely absorbed in each other.

You’re stunned. You feel a tear escape, dropping on the table, you wipe it up quickly. “Why?” You whisper.

“Just saying you’re sorry isn’t enough, is it? Words don’t mean anything. I should have apologised for what I said at Tommy’s ages ago. It was mean and cruel, and you didn’t deserve it.” She pauses for a moment, finger playing in the condensation on her glass. “We all know he suffers, that he has his demons. But he doesn’t let any of us in. You were there for him when he needed it, and I should have been thanking you. Not being a bitch.”

“He did the same for me.” You say quietly.

Ada nods, you can see she’s surprised. “I’m really sorry about what happened to Goliath, and you. Women involved with this family are always getting fucked over. Even the ones not fucking my brothers.” She looks up at you. “And with the new alliance, you’re back with us, and I was hoping this time we could be friends.” She concludes as she squeezes your hand.

“Yes, of course.” You say more out of shock than agreement. “Thank you, for these.” You say quietly, slowly turning the photo’s over one by one. It’s like looking into another person’s life. You barely recognise yourself.

Ada pats your hand and stands up. “Anyway, I’d better get going, or Tommy will think something’s happened to me.”

You snap out of your reverie “Let me get you a car.” You say looking up to catch the attention of one of the girls.

“No, it’s not necessary.” She says. You look at her not needing to say the words. She gives a half-laugh before explaining “I drove Tommy’s car.”

You give her a quick and awkward hug at the top of the stairs, the package of photo’s clutched in your hand. “Thank you.” You whisper.

She squeezes you back. “Don’t be a stranger. They all miss you and want to see you.”

\---------------

“Fuck.” You groan in response to the persistent clanging of your alarm. You reach out to turn it off but hit only timber. Lifting your head, you find yourself face-to-face with the bottom of the sofa. You realise you’re on the floor in the lounge-room not in bed. The cacophony continues.

Grabbing the edge of the coffee table, you attempt to pull yourself to your knees. You only manage to flip an ashtray over, covering yourself in a layer of ash and discarded butts. Coughing you try again. Managing to get to your knees, you grab the half-empty glass of, something, from the table. Adding a good dash of morphine you knock it back in one, shuddering at its harshness. You misjudge the distance from your hand to the table and release the glass too early causing it to clatter loudly.

On your feet, you make a haphazard attempt to remove the ash and butts from yourself. Realising you’re wearing only a slip you look around you for your clothes.  Finding a dress, you struggle to pull it over your head as you make your way to your bed and the alarm. You pick up a half bottle of gin from the assorted bottles on the bedside and skull the contents as you bash on the alarm to make it stop.

Trying to get going you put the kettle on the stove. Reaching up to get the tea canister, you’re touched by the memory of Goliaths body against yours, hand over yours on the canister. Warm breath on your neck as his free hand would pull you closer to him. His lips inevitably caressing the skin of your neck, as you worked making the tea while Goliath stayed attached to you like a shadow. Lost in the memory your hands press against the counter as your head falls to the side exposing your neck.

“Where’re my fuckin’ smokes?” You hear a man’s voice grumble from the lounge room. Snapped harshly from your comforting memory you turn towards the voice, as a man wearing only boxers’ stumbles to the bathroom.

Frantically trying to remember anything about the man, even his name, and failing you quickly collect his scattered clothing from the floor. You shove them into the man’s arms as he steps out of the bathroom.

“Oi! What’s this?” He demands, glaring at you over the armful of clothes. “Ya man comin’ home or som’in'?”

“Yes.” You lie just wanting him out.

“Ya fuckin’ got a man? Jesus!” The man hops along simultaneously trying to dress and walk. You all but push him out the door in his underwear. Your eyes flit to the mirror next to the door, drawn to the raised pink scar which shadowed your cheekbone. Doctor Prendergast had told you that the top reconstructive surgeons had done your operation and you were sure they had done their best. But, the scar was still there, a daily reminder of the worst day of your life.

Turning away you hunt through the assorted bottles and other refuse on the kitchen table looking for a cigarette. Finding one, you light it and slump into a chair. You smoke as the tea goes cold. Stubbing out the cigarette, you run a line of cocaine on the table and start your day.

\-----------------

Swirling the ice in your glass, you glance around, bored. You’re waiting for Arthur and John. They're late. You were at Alea Manor setting up a new brothel. The part of the Manor Lord Tarwin had previously occupied was being converted, and you were there overseeing the process.

“Another?” Robert the barman asks.

“Thanks.” You say, turning to look out across the foyer. The place was full, and punters seemed to be having a good time. You notice Isaiah and wave to him.

He grins happily and changes direction towards you. “Miss.” He says tugging at the brim of his cap grinning cheekily.

“Hello, Isaiah.” You greet him with a quick kiss on the cheek “Congratulations.”

Isaiah glows “So ya saw Peggy? Can ya come? You know you’re kinda the reason we’re together.” He ducks his head and rubs his palm over his face in an attempt to hide his smile.

“Of course I’m coming. Is your dad doing the service?” You reply patting his shoulder.

“Yeah, he is,” Isaiah says happily. You fall into silence for a moment. Something you had noticed often happened in your conversations recently. “I’m sorry about Goliath,” he says quietly his tone softening, “he seemed like a real nice fella.” You nod in thanks.  Silence falls again. “It’s good to see ya. We’ve missed ya, ya know? No-one to keep us inline.” He says, breaking the silence.

“So I can see.” You tease back “I’ve missed all of you too. It’s nice to be back actually.”

“How’s the conversion going?” He asks.

“Great, but I was meant to meet John and Arthur. Do you know where they are?”

“Yeah, they’re just sorting out a problem in the cellar.” He says with a cheeky grin.

You sigh “FG’s?”

“Oh fuck, no.” Isaiah cries. “Nah, just some mouthy cunts who thought they'd try and cheat us.”

“Good.” You say.

Isaiah laughs “So violence is okay, but cheating is not.”

“Well mouthy cunts deserve what they get don’t they?” You shoot him a grin. “And you better watch yourself if you ever step out on Peggy. You’ll get to see just how much I disapprove of cheating.”

Isaiah’s eyes light up as he laughs again “Did you just give me the shovel talk?”

You put your arm around his shoulders leaning in close “You better fucking believe it.” You say seriously.

Isaiah giggles nervously “You know Anna, that’s actually fucking terrifying.”

“Good.” You say gruffly, clipping his ear playfully. “Anyway, you better get back to work hey?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Isaiah says taking an exaggerated bow.

You wait for two more drinks before deciding to go and find John and Arthur. You’re already feeling a little tipsy but get a bottle each of gin and whiskey to take with you, and stop at the ladies to ‘powder your nose’, on the way. As you walk along the halls of the cellar, you just need to follow the noise to find Arthur and John.

“You thought you could cheat us?” Arthur says. His words followed by a wet thump.

“I think he did,” John replies. An oof followed by a low groan.

You knock on the door, and open it without waiting “I thought you boys could use some refreshments.” You say holding up the bottles. You are greeted by the sight of two men, both slightly bruised but still conscious, tied to chairs in the middle of the room with Arthur and John standing over them.

“Perfect timing Anna,” John says, a cheeky grin on his face as he swaggers over and takes the whiskey from you. Pulling the cork with his teeth and spitting it across the room before taking a long drink. He wipes his mouth on his sleeve before handing the bottle to Arthur.

Arthur takes a long drink. Handing the bottle back to you. “You here to help love, or just observe?”

“Oh no don’t let the lady hurt me.” One of the men laughs mockingly.

A look passes between you, John and Arthur. A silent agreement that you were going to make the man regret his words. You were so glad you wore a dress today.

“Think you can give me a few pointers?” You tease Arthur.

Arthur grunts affirmatively.

“Well, I don’t know Arthur. Women have no stomach for this kind of thing.” John says shaking his head.

You pop yourself up onto a barrel “Oh please, teach me.” You whine.

“Alright then,” John says with a heavy sigh. “Now what we’re doing here is teaching these fellows a lesson about the sin that is cheating at cards,” John says explaining slowly.

“Yes.” You say eagerly leaning forward.

“No John.” Arthur cuts his brother off “She needs to learn by doing.”

“Oh, do you think I could? I mean I’m just a girl. I only came to bring drinks.” You squeak batting your eyelashes as you pop down off the barrel, walking towards the men. You notice the loudmouthed man squirm uncomfortably. Arthur notices it too, and he grins.

Seeing your faces, John beams at you “Start with something little, like fingers.” He suggests, patting your ass playfully.

\----------------

Isaiah and some of the other Blinder boys have joined you, John and Arthur in the bar.

“It was fucking epic boys.” John crows “So there Anna is, saying I’m just a girl” He pitches his voice high, bats his eyelashes and holds his hands up under his chin imitating you. “And then she walks up to this fella calm as you fucking like, and he’s laughing at her.” He stands demonstrating now as he continues “So stands in front of him pulls the hem of her dress up, real fucking slow like a fuckin’ stripper, and he’s fucking drooling, thinking it’s his lucky fucking day right? So she inches her skirt up right up to the top of her stockings and then she pulls a fucking straight razor from her garter and calm as you fucking like she chops his fucking ear off.” John collapses back into his chair.

You duck your head at the crowing and cheering of the boys and snort another line of coke.  

“No.” You say rubbing your nose. “The best bit is Arthur. He walks over to him right? And he’s still fucking sooking about his ear. And Arthur stands on the side with no ear and says. Don’t fuck with the Peaky Fucking Blinders. And the man is just fucking crying about his ear, and so Arthur walks around to the other side.” You stand at this point, leaning down to John’s ear to demonstrate. “And Arthur says. Oh, I’m sorry you mustn’t have heard. Don’t fuck with the Peaky Fookin’ Blinders.” You laugh mocking Arthur’s accent.

The boys cheer and clap, and you laugh dropping back into your chair. Ducking your head to do another line.

The bar is suddenly very quiet. You turn, rubbing your nose, Tommy is standing in the doorway. Eyes boring through you, body stiff, and hands clenched tightly.

“What the fuck are you lot doing?” He asks quietly, clearly audible even across the expanse of the hall.

“Drinking!” You say happily draining the contents of your glass in one.

“Just telling stories Tom,” Arthur says quietly, sensing his brother’s mood better than you. The other Blinders including Isaiah quickly vanish leaving only you, John and Arthur to face Tommy.

Tommy’s jaw twitches as he pounces, snatching the vial “What the fuck is this?” He hisses, his face in yours.

“Snow.” You say with a nod, rubbing your nose again with the back of your hand. 

Tommy nods, jaw flexing in irritation. He grabs your hand, “And this?” He says turning your wrist to show you. Your knuckles were bruised and scuffed, with dry blood crackling across your hand. The blood was from the loudmouthed man’s companion when you had punched him.

“She was just helping us with some fella’s who were cheating at cards,” John says.

Tommy doesn’t acknowledge John at all “Is that true?” He asks you coldly. “Because you don’t work here anymore. You left remember?”

You stay mute. Arthur opens his mouth to intercede on your behalf, but Tommy cuts him off before he can form his first word. “Since when do you let other people handle family business? Eh?” He demands of his brother.

“Now Tom,” Arthur says “Anna’s a Blinder, just like us.”

“She left.” Tommy reminds him and you.

“I’m going to get a drink.” You say standing, turning in the direction of the bar. But you lose your balance and end in a tangled mess on the floor, giggling.

“You’ve had enough Anna. You need to go.” Tommy says coldly.

“I’m staying here.” You reply childishly. Crossing your arms across your chest defiantly.

Tommy closes his eyes for a moment before he leans over you, snatching your purse from the table, shoving it into the pocket of his jacket. Then bending down, he hoists you over his shoulder in a fireman carry. Not a single person speaks, moves or even coughs as Tommy carries you across the foyer and out into the cool night air. "Bye,” you call blowing kisses back at John and Arthur. 

You giggle, waving goodbye to the Blinders on the front door as you pass them. You bounce along as Tommy strides across the gravel. Opening the door of his car, he dumps you unceremoniously into the front seat. As he makes his way around the car, you slide across into the driver’s seat.

“Move,” Tommy says opening the door. You stay put. Tommy drums his fingers on the roof of the car in irritation. “I won’t repeat myself.”

You roll your eyes and slide over.

“Where are we going?” You ask.

“Home,” Tommy says tersely.

“London?” You ask confused.

“No, Arrow House.”

 

You say nothing looking out the window at the black nothingness either side of the car. You begin to get bored. You shuffle over closer to Tommy. He glances at you briefly before returning his attention to the road. You slide closer, so the outside of your thighs and upper arms are pressing against each other. You rest your head on his shoulder.

“You cold?” Tommy asks.

“No,” you say sliding your hand onto his thigh, you feel every muscle in Tommy’s body clench. You slide your hand over his crotch, feeling him stir under your hand.

“What are you doing?” Tommy asks brusquely.

“I think you know.” You reply, continuing your ministrations, he’s hardening already.

“Stop.” Tommy grabs your hand moving it to your lap. You say nothing sliding your hand back onto his thigh, and quickly to his crotch, gliding your hand along his length. Tommy pulls the car over and turns to face you “The fuck?”

“Yes, fuck.” You reply nodding as you reach out and cup his cheek in your palm drawing yourself up on one knee and leaning into him. “Isn’t that why you’re taking me home?”

“No,” Tommy says batting your hand away. You slide back over to your side of the car in a huff.

The two of you sit in silence both looking out the front windscreen of the car, it begins to fog quickly. 

“Not like this,” Tommy mutters as he climbs out of the car, slamming the door behind him. He paces angrily along the road, puffing furiously on his cigarette. He stays outside the car for a good ten minutes, coming back he leans down and speaks to you through the driver’s side window. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

“Fine.” You say resting your head on the door frame and closing your eyes.

\---------------

Mary embraces you happily “It’s so good to see you, Miss. Charlie will be so excited.”

“It’s good to see you too Mary.” You say giving her a quick hug.

“Go and wait in my office.” Tommy dismisses you.

This time you decide not to argue and walk down the passage. You can hear Tommy and Mary speaking softly behind you.

In Tommy's office, you make your way to the liquor cabinet, picking up the whiskey decanter and pouring a glass. Tommy appears at your shoulder, taking the glass from you. “You’ve had enough.” He says sternly tossing the drink back himself.

“Humph.” You sulk, picking up a new glass and the whiskey bottle. Tommy grabs both, attempting to pull them away from you. You struggle for a moment before letting go suddenly. Tommy takes a step back to balance himself. You grab a bottle of gin, falling back into a chair with a giggle.

Tommy stands in front of you, hand out in a silent demand for the bottle.  

You shake your head. “I have a complaint about your gin.” You say holding the bottle up for Tommy to see, but keeping it out of his reach.

“What’s that?” Tommy says through gritted teeth.

“Doesn’t fuckin’ work, does it?” You say, resting the bottle on your thigh.

Tommy raises his eyebrow obviously tiring of you. “Really? Because you’re fucking drunk.” He says sarcastically.

“No.” You say shaking your head adamantly. You turn the bottle, so the label is facing you. Tracing your finger along the print on the label, you read it aloud. “For the eradication of seemingly incurable sadness.” You look up at Tommy holding his eye “Doesn’t fuckin’ work.” You say collapsing back in the chair and chugging straight from the bottle.

“Fuck.” Tommy rubs his hand over his face, before snatching the bottle from your hand. “You’ve had enough.” He says firmly. You roll your eyes. Tommy’s eyes close, you can see him trying to hold his temper. Inhaling deeply through his nose and blowing the breath out between pursed lips. “Come on.” He says opening his eyes and holding his hand out to help you up. “You need to go to bed.”

“Hold on. I gotta take my medicine.” You say. “Where’s my purse?”

Tommy grunts and drops it in your lap.

“Thank you.” You say with a satisfied nod. You open the clasp and pull out the bottle of morphine and a spoon. Carefully pouring the morphine into the spoon before sticking it in your mouth. You shudder as the bitterness coats your tongue. You pack the spoon and bottle away and close your purse.  “Ready.” You say.

Tommy’s face is unreadable. “I didn’t think you liked morphine.”

“I don’t like it, Tommy. I need it. It helps, with the pain.” You snap.

“I thought you saw things. Finn says you saw monsters.”

“Not anymore.” You say pushing past him towards the door. You stop short, catching sight of yourself in the mirror above the fireplace. You stand looking at yourself “The only monster now is the one in the mirror.” You say softly, more to yourself than Tommy.

Tommy’s shoulders slump slightly. He steps forward and places his hands on your shoulders meeting your eye in the mirror “You’re not a monster. It’s just a scar.” He says softly in your ear, the warmth of his hands seeping into your shoulders.

Your eyes close. “It’s not what’s on the outside that makes me a monster Tommy.” You correct him.

You feel Tommy’s forehead press against your shoulder. “Anna,” he begins.

“The room is ready Mr Shelby.” You hear Mary say from the doorway.

You open your eyes and step out of Tommy’s grasp “Night Tommy.” You say following Mary from the room.  

 

Leaning against the window frame, you look out over the drive. The moon is full, the poplars casting long shadows across a silvery lawn. You look down, hearing the crunching of the gravel drive. Even from above you recognise the figure as Tommy, cigarette glowing, smoke forming a misty veil briefly before being whipped away by the wind, dark cap casting his face in shadow and coat billowing behind. He glances briefly up at your window, the moon making his pale eyes ghostly white, you can’t tell if he sees you, then he gets in his car and drives off.

Keen to avoid sleep you decide to go back downstairs. You take your shoes off so as not to wake Mary and tiptoe down the stairs. You sneak into Tommy’s office, pouring yourself a drink and taking a book from the shelf. Detouring by Tommy’s desk, you help yourself to a cigarette, lighting it using the crystal lighter next to the cigarette case. Puffing happily you settle yourself in the large armchair Tommy favours, tucking your feet up under you and open to the first page.

After an hour or so of reading and a few more glasses of whiskey, you decide you should probably go back to your room, You have no idea when or if Tommy will return, but you have not desire for another discussion about your drinking. Or anything else really. Knowing he will notice the missing or used glass you decide to wash it yourself and return it. After topping off the decanter with whiskey from within the drinks cabinet, you pad quickly down the hallway, the stairs and into the kitchen. 

In the dark, and intoxicated you stumble on the last step. You fall heavily against the table, your cheek thudding against the timber. Reeling, you lose your balance and knock a chair over causing it to scrape against the stone floor. You pitch forward, putting your arms out to stop your fall, the glass smashes in your hand. Dazed you lay there as the cold from the floor seeps into you.

_The smell of blood fills your nose. Cold forcing the air from your lungs. The only warmth you feel is from Zamir’s body pressed against you. His dick hard against your buttocks. You flinch as a blade skates over your skin, whimpering as your underwear falls away._

_“_ _Tsk, tsk” Zamir hisses pressing his tongue flat against the side of your neck, creeping up to your ear like a slug on a leaf, “have you been a bad girl?” He asks, his voice slimier than his tongue. He forces himself into you. You bite your lip reminding yourself not to react._

_Pulling out again, Zamir’s dick slides over your ass. He’s already panting. You can hear the wet suction of his hand as he plays with himself, your blood acting as a lubricant. Grunting, he pushes you down onto your knees. He rubs his bloody fingers over and around your mouth, holding your nose to force your mouth open. You resist for as long as you can. But eventually, you gasp for air.  Zamir yanks the wet rag from your mouth, shoving himself in. He presses his gun to your head. “You know the rules," he threatens, hand gripping your jaw painfully to keep your mouth open. You gag tasting your own blood. Zamir groans as your throat flexes, thrusting his hips._

_Holding his eye defiantly you bare your teeth, pulling your lips back, so your teeth grate against his vulnerable flesh. Zamir’s eyes flare, and he slams the butt of his gun into your cheek. You scream in pain, falling backwards as you lose all control of your muscles._

_As before, you concentrate on packing the pain away. On staying alive. The vision of Goliath dead in the alley returns to you again and again, and you want to give up, just die and join him. But you know that you won’t go where he’s gone. So you need to live. You need to avenge him._

_You can feel blood running down the back of your throat. Zamir grabs your jaw again, hauling you back to your knees. He presses his dick against your cheek coating it in more of your blood. You vomit. Zamir jumps back swearing and cursing you. He drags you to your feet. Slamming you against the crate and driving himself into you again._

“You’re safe.”

_You’re trapped. Your wrists bound._

“Just breathe.”

_You need to get free._

“You’re safe. Just breathe”

“No!” you scream thrashing trying to break free. You hear someone grunt. But, you remain trapped.

“You’re safe. Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

You look around you frantically. Disoriented and confused.

“Just breathe. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

You’re on the floor. There’s a large wooden table above you.

“I’ve got you. You’re safe. Just breathe.”

Tommy. He has enveloped you with his body. Legs either side of you, hands holding your wrists tightly. Your arms and his tightly wrapped around you. Your back pulled firmly against his chest.

“I’ve got you. Just breathe.” You can feel the words reverberate through his chest into you.

You take a deep shuddering breath, slumping against Tommy. You can feel tears streaming down your face but don’t seem able to stop them.

“I’ve got you.”

Tommy loosens his grip on your wrists. You can feel his heart pounding. The rapid rising and falling of his chest as he breathes. He lets out a slow breath, resting his chin on your shoulder. You feel some of the tension release from his limbs.

You pull your knees to your chest. Slumping your chest forward you wrap your arms around your legs, laying forehead on your knees.

Tommy stays wrapped around you. His head resting on your back. His hand gently tugs yours lifting it so he can see.

It’s covered in blood, a deep gash across your palm. You begin to shiver violently, teeth chattering.

“Let’s get off the floor, ‘ey?” Tommy says quietly. Slowly slipping his arm around your waist. His free hand clutches the edge of the table, and he uses it to leverage you both off the floor. “Don’t move.” He instructs firmly. “There’s glass everywhere.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I fell down.”

“It’s just a glass,” Tommy says shrugging off his overcoat and placing it over your shoulders. He pulls it closed around you. “I’m going to carry you, so you don’t cut your feet.” He explains. You nod, and he lifts you. Resting your head against him your eyes close, as he carries you up the stairs and down the hall to his office. 

You're still shivering and you breathing still laboured and erratic, as he sets you carefully on the sofa. He crosses the room and rings one of the servant bells before returning to you. Squatting in front of you he and lifts your feet, inspecting them for cuts or glass before brushing them off with his hand. “What are you doing running around barefoot hey?” He asks trying to make his voice light.

“Didn’t want to wake Mary.” You admit, dropping your head back against the back of the chair.

Tommy nods, resting his hands on his thighs for balance as he stays squatting in front of you. There’s a light knock on the door. “Come.” He replies.

Mary steps into the room, “Mr Shelby?” she asks, her eyes flitting between you and Tommy.

“Thank you, Mary. Anna’s had a little accident. Could you call the doctor for me? Bring some warm water in a basin, some tweezers, cotton and gauze? Be careful in the kitchen there’s glass on the floor.” Tommy speaks quickly and efficiently.

“Yes, Mr Shelby,” Mary says.

“Oh, and can you get Anna some socks and slippers and bring some blankets too please?” Tommy adds.

“Yes, Mr Shelby,” Mary says slipping out the door again.

You watch the exchange blankly as tears continue to roll down your cheeks

\-----------------

“She’s in a bad way, Tommy.” Doctor Prendergast says quietly keeping his voice low, so you don’t hear him through your bedroom door. Mary is in the room with you helping you change into a pair of pyjamas.

“I know that,” Tommy says tersely. He leans back against the wall, dragging heavily on a cigarette.

“Normally in situations like this, I would suggest she spend some time in a Sanatorium. But with her experience with the hospital and the Asylum,” the doctor doesn’t bother to finish his sentence, lighting his own cigarette.

“What does she need?” Tommy asks.

“Rest. Quiet. Sleep. A break from everything. Less booze, less cocaine, less morphine, less violence, less heartbreak.” The doctor holds his hands up helplessly before continuing “Outside of the war, I’ve never seen anyone who’s been through so much and is still functioning.”

Tommy rubs his fingers around his eyes, before pinching the bridge of his nose. He reaches over and pats the doctor on the shoulder, squeezing it tightly. “Thanks for coming ‘ey. I’ll show you out.” Tommy says pushing himself off the wall.

The doctor pats Tommy on the back. “I know the way.” Placing his hand on his upper arm, he stops “You call if you need anything. Anything at all. Right?”

“Will do,” Tommy replies nodding and patting the doctor’s back as he opens the door to your room.

Mary’s leaving as he enters. “Can I get you anything, Mr Shelby?”

“No Mary. You go to bed.” Tommy says shutting the door behind her.

Tommy drags the armchair over next to the bed. Glancing down at you staring up at the ceiling before he settles himself.  

“You know if I were a horse you’d shoot me.” You say quietly.

“I always hated seeing a horse killed, hated it even more when I had to do it myself.” He replies, smoke from his mouth wafting up through a moonbeam.

You both stay silent for a long time.

“Tommy?” You ask quietly, turning your head slightly to see if he’s awake.

“Mm?” His eyebrows raise, but his eyes remain closed.

“I’m sorry about in the car.”

“It’s fine, just forget it.” He replies.

“I just miss it.”

The moonlight catches the slight arch of his eyebrow and the twitch in the corner of his mouth.

“No. I don’t miss that. That’s easy to get.” You sigh closing your eyes. “I miss the closeness, the warmth. Him.” You bring your hand to your face covering your eyes.  

Tommy’s hand glances over your elbow “I know.”

\----------------

Mary is in the armchair when you wake. “Good morning Miss.” She greets you looking up from her knitting briefly.

“Good morning Mary.” You reply rolling to face her. “What are you making?” 

Mary smiles. “A little jacket and cap for Finn and Daisy’s baby.” She says happily.

“How do you know it’s going to be a boy?” You ask, tapping the soft, pale blue yarn. The same blue you'd seen in Tommy's eyes when he'd sat in your kitchen eating eggs and bread with dripping. 

“Polly says,”  

You nod. “Where’s Charlie?” You ask suddenly realising that Mary was again looking after you when she should have been with Charlie.

“With Mr Shelby. Down with the horses.” She replies. Finished her row, she sets her knitting aside “Can I get you some breakfast?” Your stomach turns, and you shake your head. “Just tea then,” Mary says, collecting her things. “Do you want me to bring it up or will you come down?” She asks.

“I’ll come down.”

 Mary nods and leaves. Your suitcase is in the corner of the room. That must have been where Tommy went last night you realise. You flex your hand uncomfortably. Your purse is on the bedside, and you open it and pour yourself a dose of morphine. 

Getting up and dressing, opting for pants, a shirt and jacket you look out the window and notice a caravan pulled up outside. Tommy’s standing next to it talking to another man. Tommy isn’t wearing a suit you notice. Rather an open-necked shirt, jacket and of course his cap. Charlie is sitting on the bench at the front, examining some little treasure he had found. Ready, you tap out a line of snow and head downstairs, meeting Mary at the bottom.

“I’ve put your tea in Mr Shelby’s office, Miss. He’d like to talk to you.” She says.

“Thanks, Mary.” You reply walking the short distance down the hall to Tommy’s office. Entering the room and finding it empty, you forego the tea and pour yourself a whiskey. You lean against Tommy’s desk, after helping yourself to a cigarette, looking at nothing in particular out the window.

 

“So do you eat at all anymore? Or are you living on booze, cigarettes, snow and morphine?” Tommy asks.

“I drink tea sometimes.” You say not bothering to turn to face him.

You can hear Tommy behind you, the gentle clinking of the china letting you know he’s making tea. He comes around to you, taking the empty glass from you and replacing it with a cup of tea.

“Thanks.” You say. Tommy leans back against the window frame, lighting a fresh cigarette. He rubs his thumb along his jaw as he watches you. “Something, in particular, you want Tommy?” You ask, finding his gaze typically uncomfortable.

“The doctor says you need rest, time away from everything. A break.” He begins.

You stiffen, pushing off the desk, the hairs on your body bristling “I heard you last night. I’m not going to a fucking Sanatorium or fucking convalesce home.” You say quietly.

Tommy holds his hands up to stop you. “No.” He agrees. You relax slightly. “But, I have spoken to some friends, Gypsy’s, travellers, and they have agreed for you to go and spend some time with them.” His eyes roam your face trying to gauge your reaction. “You need to get away from all this.” He says waving his arm indistinctly.

Your eyes close. You feel Tommy step closer, hands holding your upper-arms lightly. “You need to stop this. You need to look after yourself. If you keep going like this, you’re gonna end up dead in a ditch somewhere.” You don’t open your eyes, knowing you couldn’t meet his. “And all of us have had enough loss yeah?” He finishes.

You open your eyes but fix them immediately on a button in the middle of Tommy’s chest. “But I have work, commitments.” You say.

“It’s all sorted. I’ve spoken to Alfie and Selene, they’re worried about you too.”  

You shake your head “I'm fine Tommy.”

“You’re not.”

“My boyfriend was murdered, and I was kidnapped and,” You stop, the words catching in your throat. Hot tears begin to slide down your cheeks again. You slump back against the desk wiping your hands over your face.

“I know.” Tommy says. “But you don’t have to do everything on your own.”

“How dare you.” You snarl. Tommy steps back. “How fucking dare you use his words against me.” You step towards him, furious.

“What?” Tommy says off-guard.

“That’s low even for you Tommy, using his words against me to get me to do what you want.”

“Anna. What the fuck are you talking about?” Tommy says. “Are you talking about Goliath?”

“Yes.”

“Anna. I never met him. I never said a word to him. How could I possibly know what he said ‘ey?” His voice is quiet and gentle, not meeting your venom with his own.

You sink down into Tommy's chair, resting your head on the desk and covering your head with your arms. They were the exact words. The exact words. You rub the pearl against your palm. Trying to make sense of what was happening.  Maybe Polly was right about spirits and the life-after and predictions and signs. Maybe Goliath was telling you to go. “Alright.” You relent. 

“Right. Good.” Tommy says.  

 

Suitcase in hand you stand next to the caravan. “Anna this is Johnny,” Tommy says by way of introduction to the man you had seen him with earlier.

“Lovely to meet you, Anna, just lovely. I’ll take that for ya shall I?” He says, taking the suitcase from your hand.

“And you, Johnny.” You say quietly, clasping your now empty hands in front of you.

“Charlie!” Tommy calls. Nothing. “Where’s Charlie?” Tommy calls again. You hear a small giggle from inside the caravan. You catch a soft smile on Tommy’s face “Johnny? Do you know where Charlie is?” He says playfully.

“No, I’m sure I don’t Tommy. I’m sure I don’t” Johnny says smiling.

“Oh well, Johnny, guess we’ll just have to go without him,” Tommy says. He guides you to the back of the caravan “Come on then Anna, in we get.” He says opening the door of the caravan. You climb up inside. “You know it’s a real shame Charlie couldn’t come.” Tommy carries on. “Ah, well. I guess we’ll just have to make ourselves comfortable and get on our way.” He says.

“It’s a shame, I was really looking forward to seeing Charlie.” You say joining in.

“Well, there’s nothing for it. Take a seat there Anna.” Tommy says, lowering himself lightly on top of a very lumpy pillow. The pillow giggles.

“This is a very squirmy pillow,” Tommy says standing and patting it down.

“Must have rats ‘ey, Tommy.” Johnny pipes up. “Shall I get the shovel for ya? So ya can squish ‘em.”

Tommy reaches under the cushion “No Johnny I think I’ve got it. Oh my, it’s a big one.” He says pulling Charlie out by his ankles and holding him upside down. “Watch out Anna. I’d better throw this rat out.”

“I’m not a rat! I’m Charlie!” the little boy cries giggling.

Tommy shakes him playfully “But my Charlie has blonde hair, this one has black hair.” Tommy says referring to Charlie’s black shoes.

“No, Daddy, those are my feet. I’m up-side-down.” Charlie chuckles.

Tommy quickly flicks Charlie around, pulling him into him and kissing his cheeks resulting in another spurt of giggles.

Charlie squirms and Tommy puts him down, patting his head. Before opening up the hatch between the caravan and the front seat. “Charlie, you sit back here with Anna.” He says as he climbs over to the front and picks up the reins. “Come on Johnny!” He calls.

“Right Tommy, right you are,” Johnny says you can hear the door being locked off and Johnny quickly pops up next to Tommy.

Tommy clicks his tongue, and the horse moves off. You sit quickly on the bench next to Charlie, who climbs up into your lap. You rest your hands around his middle holding onto him. You feel Charlie lift your bandaged hand. “You got hurt.” He says.

“It’s nothing Charlie I just fell over and cut it a little bit, it will be better in no time.” You reassure him.

He nods and lifts you hand higher pressing his face against it gently “Mwah.” He says “I kissed it better. It’s all better now.” He says proudly.

“Thank you, Charlie, that was very kind of you.” You say.

“Charlie and I will come with you to Johnny’s camp, or nearly anyway, then we’ll catch the train back home and Johnny and you will meet up with the families tomorrow,” Tommy explains turning slightly.  

You nod. Charlie begins to wriggle and climbs down and Johnny lifts him over the front setting him between himself and Tommy. You sit back, resting your head against the side of the caravan. Johnny and Charlie chat away about the things they can see around them. You feel your eyes flutter closed.

\---------------

“Anna?” a hand touches your knee.

“Yeah?” you say rolling your neck painfully, you were stiff.

“Charlie and I are going now,” Tommy says.

“Right.” You nod, not knowing what else to say.

“I’ll see you in a week or so,” Tommy reassures you.

“Thanks.” You reply. Charlie climbs into the back to kiss you goodbye his little hands holding your cheeks. “Bye Charlie.” 

You wave as you and Johnny pull away from the station. You pull the bottle of morphine from your pocket, taking two spoonfuls and swallowing them with a shudder. You rest your head back against the side again and allow the gentle rocking and rhythmic sound of the horse’s gait to lull you to sleep.

\----------------

Everything hurts. It’s dark and you feel cramped. You have no idea where you are. Panic rises as you try to remember. You feel your way around you frantically. You’re not bound you realise. You can see a chink of light in front of you, scrambling towards it on your hands and knees you pound against the timber.

“All right, all right. I’m coming.” A man’s voice says, light and cheerful.

You reach for your gun, it and your holster are missing. Going for your concealed knife you find that missing too. Panic again clutching at your chest you feel around you for something to use as a weapon. Your hands find nothing fit for purpose. Scrambling you hurry back away from the door, cowering in the corner.

“All right ‘ere we go then.” The man’s voice says again as the door opens and sunlight blinds you. “Morning Anna.” The man smiles broadly, it’s Johnny you realise. “How ya feeling today?” He asks as he steps backwards clearing the doorway. “Come on now.” He says encouragingly.

“Where are we?” You ask stopping at the top of the steps and looking around you.

“Paradise,” Johnny says happily, holding his arms out wide.

“Would ya like some breakfast while we wait for the others to arrive?” He asks

A faint waft of sausages reaches your nose. You gag and then retch. Johnny quickly helps you down the stairs and you spend the next ten minutes heaving beside the caravan. Johnny lays a kindly hand on your back and hands you a clean hanky when you’re done.

“How ‘bout some tea then love? Seeming as you ain’t feeling the best. Good cuppa will fix you right up.” Johnny offers kindly, seemingly unfazed by your behaviour.

“Thank you.” You manage your voice harsh from the acid in your throat.

“There’s a little creek, just over the hill there.” Johnny points in the direction he means “Go wash your face, it’ll help you feel better.”

It was indeed a little creek, not more than a foot wide. Hidden by the grasses, you nearly step in it. Johnny finds you, sometime later, doubled over with your hands pressed just above your knees as you heave again. He pulls the kerchief free off his neck and dunks it in the cool water of the stream before wringing it out and laying it on the back of your neck. “The Lee’s ‘ll be here today. They have good healers who’ll be able to help ya.” He says reassuringly.

A fresh wave of nausea overtakes you and your skin is beginning to crawl. You pull the morphine bottle from your pocket groaning as you realise its empty “Where are my things?” You ask.

“Your suitcase is in the caravan,” Johnny replies.

“Great.” You reply walking back to the caravan. You quickly climb back inside, opening your suitcase and finding your toiletries bag. You open it and tip it out. You know you had put a bottle of morphine in there before you left London. It’s gone. You start going through your clothes checking you hadn’t put it somewhere else by mistake. You tip the suitcase out and start double checking all the pockets and compartments. Nothing.

“Fucker.” You mumble under your breath.

“You right there love?” Johnny calls out.

“Do you have any morphine? Snow? Mine seems to have gone missing.” You say trying to keep the stress out of your voice.

“Ah, no lass. Have no use for it meself, see.” He replies apologetically.

“Is there somewhere we can get some, some town or something?” You ask.

“No. Just fields and forest from here on. Not even many roads really.” Johnny replies happily.

“Whiskey?”

“Ah, now Tommy said that the doc said ya should avoid it for a while, so there’s no whiskey, or any other hard liquor, in your van or mine,” Johnny says ruefully.

“I don’t suppose you would just drop me off somewhere?” You asked already knowing the answer.

“Ah no. Tommy’d have me balls over the fire in no time.” Johnny cheerily replies.  

By mid-morning you are a sweating, shivering mess. Dry heaving constantly. Your muscles are cramped and sore. Hollowness gnawing at your insides. By noon you are huddled in the back of the caravan, wrapped in as many blankets as Johnny could find, drifting between sleep and delirium.

As the sun sets you are wracked with pain, curled in a ball on the floor of the caravan.

You open your eyes to be greeted by the sight of a stern-faced woman, her hair tied back with a black scarf. Her eyes piercing through you. Same look Tommy has you think. “He should have sent you to us earlier.” She comments, turning her attention elsewhere. Her hand slides under your head, lifting it as she holds a small tumbler to your lips. “Drink it all.” She instructs.

The harsh fluid feels like it’s stripping the lining of your mouth, you splutter but do as the woman instructs. Swallowing the last of it, you wipe your hand over your mouth. “What was that?”

“Medicine.” She says simply setting the tumbler aside. “Sleep now.” She says placing her hand over yours and patting it. Her brow furrows “Who gave you this?” She says tapping on the pearl of your ring.

You shake your head, feeling a lump rising in your throat. The woman’s eyes flutter shut as she touches the pearl again. “Mm, two men. One who intended to give it, and the one who gave it on his behalf.” She says nodding to herself as she turns your good hand over and examines it closely. She mutters to herself for a while “Too much loss for one so young.” She says more to herself than you. 

You look at her blankly, sleep already pulling you away from her.

“Good girl. Just sleep.” She says her hand smoothing your forehead. You sigh remembering it was something your mother would do when you were little. “Just sleep.” The woman repeats.

Your eyes begin to close and the woman begins to sing. A high haunting melody fills the caravan. And you sleep.

 


End file.
